comes off jest like butter," said the boy, rolling out of the way of the
pan. "I know what it will be; I shall be so weak that I shall just ride a
stinking bad race."

Mr. Leopold and Mr. Swindles exchanged glances. It was clear they thought
that there was something in the last words of the fainting Demon, and the
pan was withdrawn. But when the boy was got into the scale again it was
found that he was not yet nearly the right weight, and the Gaffer ordered
another effort to be made. The Demon pleaded that his feet were sore, but
he was sent off to Portslade in charge of the redoubtable William.

And as the last pounds came off the Demon's little carcass Mr. Leopold's
face resumed a more tranquil expression. It began to be whispered that
instead of hedging any part of his money he would stand it all out, and
one day a market gardener brought up word that he had seen Mr. Leopold
going into Brighton.

"Old Watkins isn't good enough for him, that's about it. If Silver Braid
wins, Woodview will see very little more of Mr. Leopold. He'll be for
buying one of them big houses on the sea road and keeping his own trap."




VIII


The great day was now fast approaching, and the Gaffer had promised to
drive his folk in a drag to Goodwood. No more rain was required, the
colt's legs remained sound, and three days of sunshine would make all the